


13

by stelleappese



Series: 30 drabbles [7]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 05:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16613078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelleappese/pseuds/stelleappese
Summary: The room is filled with the warm orange glow of the fire and the high-pitched howling of the wind. It’s close to midnight, but James can’t seem to be able to fall asleep; he just sits close to the fire and looks at the embers shimmer, and he tries not to let his thoughts wander too far.There’s a knock on the door of his room, so light James thinks he may have imagined it, but the door does creak open and Dr. Goodsir peeks in.





	13

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to write a longer version of this, a while ago, but my brain didn't cooperate. It's sort of set in the same universe as [my other The Terror fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14744714), but later on, when everybody (or almost everybody?) is back home and safe.

The room is filled with the warm orange glow of the fire and the high-pitched howling of the wind. It’s close to midnight, but James can’t seem to be able to fall asleep; he just sits close to the fire and looks at the embers shimmer, and he tries not to let his thoughts wander too far.  
There’s a knock on the door of his room, so light James thinks he may have imagined it, but the door does creak open and Dr. Goodsir peeks in.  
“I apologize,” he whispers, “Can I come in?”  
“It is your house,” James says, with a little grin.   
The door clicks closed, and Dr. Goodsir walks up to the fireplace, hugging himself.  
“Are you having trouble sleeping?” James asks. Dr. Goodsir nods. He’s still standing, for some reason, staring at the dying embers.  
“I have the… unreasonable feeling the roof of my bedroom is about to fly off, and the walls fall off. Much like a house of cards. And I will be left exposed to…” he shrugs, hugs himself a little tighter. “Whichever nightmare my mind can conjure. I have slept in that bedroom since I was a boy. And now it feels… unreal. Some sort of badly crafted duplicate of it. Imagine that…”  
He sighs, rubs his eyes. The howling of the wind increases. The branches of the big tree that grows near the side of the Goodsir family home scratch against the wall.  
“Sit with me,” James says. “We can talk the night away.”  
Dr. Goodsir still doesn’t look at James, but he does smile. “That sounds lovely.”


End file.
